


Of Dog-eared Books and Keys made of Stars

by Kasan_Soulblade



Category: Kingdom Hearts, Kingdom Hearts Birth By Sleep
Genre: AU for BBS timeline, AU of "Society' using plot points I couldn't fit into the original stories timeline, Aqua bashing, Because Ienzo is lonely all claims to the contraty, Before Radiant's fall, Even is quite the papa Wolf, For Raberba Girl, Gen, Ienzo's past is very unpleasent pre and somewhat post apprenticeship, Ven is far too trusting, and Ven is lost in his own way, because the whole idea of kids going to war upsets Aeleus, erauqs bashing, friendship focus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasan_Soulblade/pseuds/Kasan_Soulblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the stories go is that there is a hero, his goodness undisputed, and there is a monster, it wickedness immeasurable by a sane man's means.  Good and evil meet, and after a clash, a conflict, the hero wins.</p><p>Such is the stuff of fairytales.</p><p>But for one, well one stepped out of a fairy tale, and for the other, he'd read them all.  They met, and the expected bits of setting, and place, and symbolism, and drama, and the charts that those enthrawled by analysis loved...  None of it fit.</p><p>So they didn't even try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of a Tale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raberba_girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raberba_girl/gifts).



Like someone out of a tale

Just because they were nights didn’t mean they wore armor.  Not all the time.  Though how the armor was compacted into a metal trinket and then sewn into the clothes had been a point of interest.  When he’d donned his per fighting unversed, then drawn it back with a flick of a thought and an idle gesture the white clad boy’s blue eye went wide.  Small hands had coaxed him to sitting at the fountain’s edge though Ven tried to say he was fine.  He did this a lot (and didn’t that make him sound cool) and it was fine.  But his boasts were met with a small frown and some more gentle shoving… that was becoming less gentle and more insistent as time wore on.

“You are a pushy little kid, anyone tell you that?”

His companion’s lips twitched into a smile, a smile he was allowed to see, and that grew wider when Ven finally sat.  Really, he wasn’t folding to the little kid or anything, he was just worried that the kid (and when’d kids get this small, it was both shocking and scary to finally met someone smaller than him) was going to shove them both in the fountain with his wordless drive to make Ven sit _right now_.

“So.. umm..”  Small hands were eagerly plucking at the older boy’s shoulders, trying to divide metal from fabric without any damage being done.  “Geeze, didn’t your parents teach you about personal; space when you were little?”

Well littler.

Still it got those hands to stop their previous plucking… but there was something sad and pained about the boy’s face after that.

“So... do they do names here? Or is pulling at peoples clothes just a thing that people do here instead of names?”

That brought back the smile, and twisted it into a smirk. And there was something a touch... wicked to the boy’s sole visible blue eye.

“For the record.”  Ven crossed his arms over his chest, just like Terra used to, specifically when Ven was up to something.  “I saw lots of people out here, before the monsters showed up, and no one else was doing it, so if you say yes I’m not going to believe you.”

Sill smiling, the boy did huff, and that something… unsettling… about his eyes still lingered.  Like that grin, like that smirk, it was still there, but gentled with soundless mirth.  The blue haired boy did take a hint though, did back up and straighten his white coat and back and tried (and utterly failed) to look taller and older all at once.  The kid was dressed odd, black boots, dark blue pants made of thick seeming tough stuff Ven had never seen before, with a bit of grey about his neck (where the white folds of the long coat weren’t quite buttoned right) hinted at the shirt underneath.

“Sooo…  I’m Ven, and you’re…  ummm”  The quiet boy’s small hand shot out at that,  forward but tipped to the side “and you’re offering me a hand? Like a hand up?”

To Ven’s confusion the small boy snorted, then slowly, as if approaching a shy animal the child’s right hand crept forward.  Settling around Ven’s arm, with gentle pulls he coaxed the young keyblade wielder’s arm out and straight.  When it was just so the smaller of the two clasped Ven’s hand with his own, and once their fingers were conjoined made the whole of Ven’s form jerk in response to a really really weird tug pull jerk motion.

“Alright… and that was?”

“Han’shake.”

The response was so soft, a whisper’s whisper, but at it Ven grinned.

“Dunno, that felt more like a whole body shake, you know.  Guess I gotta get better at it, so it only shakes my hand, right?”

A thoughtful consideration came from that question, at least if the frown lines about the boy’s mouth and face meant anything.

“You don’t… Where _are_ you from?”

“Nope, we don’t, and I’m from way across town.” 

He lied because there were rules, about secrets and stuff Ven made a promise to himself not to say anything else.  Nothing about the Land of Departure, or other worlds, or…

“Hmmm…”  Stepping back, looking him over from head top to toe tip, the boy considered something.  Wracked words until they were warped into some sort of new meaning, and at examinations end the humming stopped and the boy’s head was tipped to one side, small fingers settled under his chin, whole posture screaming “well aren’t you interesting”.  Then, he knelt, picked up something from the ground, from where Ven’d been standing not so long ago.  “What’s this?”

He had a seedling between his fingers, a pink seed from who knew where.

Literally, who knew, Ven didn’t, it sort of looked like it came from one of Master Eraqus’ gardens (it was vibrant enough) but considering where he’d been (everywhere) there were no guarantees.

There seemed something… ominous about the boy, and that seed.  Especially that seed in those too calm, too quiet, person’s hands.

Deciding he would ask a question of his own, Ven stood, and the boy flinched back as if from some awful sight.  But when Ven looked about there wasn’t anyone else, and the boy was still again, and watching him, sole visible eyes a little wilder than before.  But that was all.

And that was odd.

“Who are you?”  Ven pressed.

“Scientist.”

“Well and I thought my name was weird...”  Ven murmured, snapping back to his senses, the kid had crept back a few steps between then and now, “I’d like that back, Mr. Scientist.”

To that demand, though softly delivered it was firm, and stern, the boy acted.  Shoveling the seed into a coat pocket and shaking his head.  “Mine.”

It was the kid’s wide eyes, and slight shake that kept him from leaping at the kid.  He’d of got it back the seed after a tussle that would have been more play than anything else. That’s how he would have acted if it’d been Terra playing keep away.  Maybe even Aqua too, if she was playing in that way (which she rarely did, but when she did it was really cool, because she was better at keep away than Terra was).

“How about a compromise?”  Ven wheedled, crouching down, keeping his eyes even with the little kids, hands on his knees.  The little kid’s quick breathing slowed when Ven made himself smaller, and to that Ven smiled wider.  He’d got something right in this.  “It _is_ mine, I dropped it.  And since it’s mine to give I’ll give it to you for… a week. Then I’ll come get it back.”  To the answering shocked look he laughed, at least the kid didn’t flinch back from that, “you can borrow it, alright?  I’ll poke around town,” looking for Unversed, because where there was one there was lots and he really really needed to find out why, “look at stuff… before going to my part of town... ” and wasn’t that the awkwardest lie, like ever? “-alright?”

Hand following seedling, the little kid’s hand surly fisted about his find, if the tensing of the pocket and shoulders was anything to go by.  “F…fine.  Where do you live? I’ll drop it off when I’m done.”

And to that perfectly, reasonable, good question, Ven’s mouth opened, and closed, and opened and…

And the little kid smiled, that something wicked in his eyes was dancing, making a smile into a smirk and making the whole of him unsettling.

“Unless… of course, you don’t live across town, where I _used to live_.  Because I think I’d remember someone with a really big key thing walking about town, with amulet armor and what not.  You’d stand out.”  Something like confidence swelled in his voice, raising it above a whisper, to more mundane chatty levels. “especially dressed like _that_.”

“Like what?”  Ven huffed.

“Like someone out of a story book.”

“Umm.. well..  I…”

“I’ll probably be done tomorrow, meet you then, tomorrow, about this time?”  The boy grinned, rocking back and forth on his heels, wicked smugness shimmering about him.  It was an odd kind of light, but Ven couldn’t argue that the kid glowed form it. 

“Um..” thinking he was begin tricked, Ven sighed, he needed that seed back.  They couldn’t leave.. well evidence and something about the kid warned that leaving that seed behind would be bad.  Very very bad..  “Fine… tomorrow’s fine.”

In  a flurry of white the boy was turned about and running off, cackling… honest to light _cackling_ “Igotasampleasampleasample” all the way… well not home. But out, or on his way to being gone.

And there was something really really creepy about the whole of this.  But despite that, or maybe because of it, Ven was smiling.  And trying not to laugh at the sheer glee of the child’s song.  Weird as that song was, whatever “sample” was.

“This world is nuts.”  Ven grumbled, shaking his head, straightening.  But he was still smiling, proving that the nuttiness was surly catchy, and he’d likely caught a batch of it himself.

Because Ven was smiling, and wasn’t really all that worried, despite the fact that he should probably have been.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the odd tags, this is emergency storage for another site. I'll clean up this chapter when I can. Until then slashes mean ittalics, nothing else should be compromised.

Of Dog-Eared books and Keys made out of Stars

Chapter 2

He’d slept nowhere because there was nowhere to sleep.  No kind strangers (or masters) opened their doors to him as the shadows lengthened and it was getting later.  Finally, in desperation he’d knocked and asked.

The responses ranged from hostile to rather arcane sounding directions about a “fiscal aid shelter”.  The most helpful of the lot had warned him that without proper paperwork he could be detained.

Not liking the sound of that Ven’d settled for a park.  It was big enough to have patches of untended greenery, and those patches felt most like home.  There were also spans of spring soft grass, so thick and untrimmed that he could lay on his back and the only contest his sleep met with was the itchy tickles of an adventurous stalk.  No rocks to be found…  Well, there’d been /one/ rock, but he’d tossed it out into the dark and that’d been that.

Come sunrise he was up and about, watching for shadows swollen with Unverse and malcontent even as he tackled roads that were a gritty grey but had something of a ghost of grasses springiness to them.  Small signs were the norm, alighting slender posts and hanging over the doors, but without Aqua he didn’t think he could cast a translation spell.

Or rather he was sure he shouldn’t.

Many a Keyblader had traded comprehension of one language for another and lost the ability to take it back.

And he wasn’t much of a wizard.

People who’d set fire to their hair, or summoned their helm wrong way around in on a semi-regular basis weren’t going to be Master Spell Weavers someday.

Still, he didn’t mind (well save the hair, Terra’d been merciless in his teasing, and Aquas eyes’d danced for weeks).  So long as he kept his charm and Aqua thought of him fondly at least once a day he wouldn’t not understand what people were saying.  And that was the important thing.  Nose sniffing he got a whiff of something warm and sweet,   a wind born confirmation that really, reading wasn’t everything.

Padding up to the source of the smells, to a shortish long building that was as grey as the road around it, he joined a small line that had built about one wall.  It was a curious  wall, all but cut in half due to a window without seeming end, he stood almost under the counter when he turn come up.  Still, he didn’t mind, the looking up, the crick in his neck (the rocks parting gift, before departing) and tall the itchy grass spots were all but forgotten when the little old lady beyond the counter smiled at him.  It was a nice, warm, sort and he met like for like.

“Hello dear, you’re out early.”

“Got a busy day.”  Ven admitted, a little bounce to his standing mad e him bob just so.  “Can I buy one please?”

“One of what, sweetie?”

“Oh, everything!”

XXX

Pamela’s Pastry Palace had exactly three hundred and fifty eight types of sweet.  It was “the biggest selection in Radiant” and “His majesty was quite the regular” and there were other things said.  But the main things that mattered was that obviously everything was out.

But that didn’t mean Ven didn’t have to try.

Twenty five pastries later (technically twenty six, but the lemon crème tarts had been so yuck! He’d crumpled and crumbed the lot up and tossed the sugary globs at a tree.  There’d been chirping from that tree, and the bird might of liked what he didn’t.  However a few more snacks in, when the birds weren’t biting... or pecking… Ven’d admitted that this worlds were smarter than Departure’s, he’d then resolved to use all the other pastries to get the lemon taste out of his mouth.

It hadn’t been the smartest resolution ever.

Ven’d taken refuge from the world at a fountain.  Not the fountain from yesterday, but just one nearby, close enough to curl up too, and cool enough to make his hot swollen feeling belly feel not so bad anymore.

There’d also been shade, and that’d helped him doze, for just a little bit.

Merciful stars he hadn’t been sick yet, not the messy type of call for Aqua or the Master, whoever was closest sort, but he felt awful.  But he hadn’t gotten sick, nor did he thing he was going to.  So long as he didn’t move too much.

So he let the world go by, or rather the town’s knights.  They’d trooped by twice without seeing him, granted a small form curled up against a fountain, and up against a wall was rather easy to miss, but still, their Masters must have been horribly disappointed….  But Ven didn’t make it easy either.  Refusing to groan or make noise of the like.  Anyway, he’d heard them walk by twice and spied a pair of boots from a chink in the wall once.

While spying won’t nice, not moving, or being moved, was so much nicer, so he always went really quiet when he heard shoes, no matter the type of shoes he spied upon.

So when a pair of no weapons rattle, much softer that the steel toes bots, but glossy black all the same went back and forth and back and was gone, Ven might of been a little, worried.  Enough to dare rolling over, and his stomach didn’t like that, not at all.

Still, he blinked back tears and glared up at the white coated, said coat was flapping under the force of the brisk too-quick-to-watch-I-will-not-puke steps of a particular blue haired kid.

It was what’s his name.

“You are late and at the wrong local I might add!” Peevishness stole softness obviously.

If there was justice to the worlds, he’d open his mouth to puke, al over those shiny balck boots.

As it was all he could manage was a groan.

“Sweeet…”

“If that’s all…”  A sniff…  “You…”  A quick mouseish flurry of sniffs ensued.  “How much glucose, sucrose, fructose, and poly saturated fats did you consume!”

Ven’s only answer to that was to whimper.

To that the blue haired kid groaned.  “Just like Aele-“  A huff.  “Why, it’s not even Friday nigh-“  a sigh.  Finally, aiming for coherence, and gaining softness besides, the boy grumbled.  “Are you about to puke?”

“Maybe?”  Came the whimpered response.

“Try not too… any allergies?”  Small hands ghosted over him, having nothing of yesterday’s poking impatience.  Finally Ven’s pocket was found, or so the rustle of a receipt reviled indicated.

For a while here was silence of a not so silent sort, with water running and a soft hum as the younger boy read.  Finally the quiet was broken by a rather wry observation…

“I don’t think cure /can/ cure this much consumption.  Or gravity spells suppress this much mass for easy.. er passage.”

Above, beyond them both, some birds chirped.

“You need medicine.  I know an herbalist here abouts, don’t move.”

“Wha?”  Ven groaned.

“Stay there, I’m getting some Ipecac.”  Came the slight louder response.

The click of boots on stone indicated the child was running, running, gone.

XX

The Ipa whatever it was was awful, and knightly resolve and training, and image and honor aside Ven let the world know. Also, puking was awful.  And feeling pukey.

But the little kid, who didn’t act really little honestly, stuck about.  Soaking a handkerchief in the fountain and freezing it with a word he’d set the impromptu ice pack to Ven’s neck and it’d felt nice after a half second’s shock.  He’s also tried to hold Ven’s hair back, but there’d been too much pulling involved so he’s stopped after Ven snapped at him about bald spots.

“Mm dying!”  Ven groaned.  “You killed me!”

“You’re the one who ate twenty six-“

“five-“

“/six/ pastries and-“

And the word Ven thought of sweet and his stomach didn’t like sweets and…

And he missed the trashcan if the little kid’s “great” meant anything.

If the icy cloth smacked him on the back of his head next reapplication... well it was more than justified.

XXX

“This’s not how I wanted to spend my day.”  Boots off, small toes wiggling, the blue haired boy was scrubbing at his foot with a handful of paper napkins taken from a soup and sandwich shop.  Some wetting from the fountain was rather obligatory at this point, and he alternated from swiping at boots and feet and eating without a wince for the smell or the realization that he was eating right after cleaning up…

It was enough to make Ven’s newly found appetite want to wander. 

As it was, it might of watned to, but it didn’t not really.  Because, insanity upon insanities, Ven decided he was hungry a mere hour after his last bout of getting sick.

So Ven was having a creamy chicken soup (sans pepper of any other matter that could be abrasive) and the blue haired kid had folded to his elders concerns and gotten a sandwich.

“Twenty five lettuce plants died to make that sandwich.”  Ven drawled between slurps.

It was green.  Three different shades of green peaked out about the edges, and disk shaped non leaves kept the frills company at the back edge.  Only the sheen of salt grains and a light gloss of oil kept the whole from being too wholesomely good to look at.

“Pastries.”  Came the sing-songed rejoinder.

“Mmph!”  Swallowing his latest bite, Ven glared.  “You, Mr. Scientist, are evil!”

Gloating could be glowing, and didn’t that poke a lot of holes into Master Erauqs’ only that of light may produce light, speeches.

“Eeviiil… you are like the weirdest, littlest, unversed I’ve ever seen.”  And since the kid was so close.. well a hair ruffle just had to happen.  It was obligatory and all that, and as a knight Ven didn’t shy from obligations.

“Stop that!”  Wincing away from the touch, the blue haired boy grumbled and wined and curled into himself with a glower that Ven respected.  “And I believe,” there was an edge to the following bite, one that trailed into the chewing.  “That for such a unique person as yourself, your perspectives might be skewed.”

“Meaning?”  Ven stretched, sprawled, letting his bare feet wiggle, and nearly knocking over one of his boot besides.  He’d cleaned before eating, and considered himself all the smarter for it.

“For… a… a guy who wears an armor button and plays with a giant key, from /across town/,” the sarcasm of the last was ineffable, “you’re unlikely to be the best judge.  Of good or of evil.”

“What’s my armor and keybl- Key got to do with anything?”  Ven grumbled.

“It’s not all light and darkness, black and white.”  The boy shrugged.  “I’d bet good munny you’re all, serve the light and no a thought of the consequences of the dark, or of anything else save serving.”

That stung, though Ven didn’t quite know why, he grumbled.  “Where’s my seed, Mr. Scientist?”

“I forgot it.”  Came the bland, no tone rejoinder.  “And it hasn’t been a week yet.”  As sudden as it came, the blank façade was pulled down by a near electric glee.  Lips quirking into a grin, the blue haired boy indulged in a chuckle softer than a whisper.  For some reason that made Ven sad, and did a lot to sooth the anger from the moment before, though for all the wrong reasons.  “You should of heard them down at the lab, they squealed like girls, all five of them.  Like girls finding a spider.  It didn’t match any of the dna samples of anything from anywhere. Even was absolutely ecstatic to have one of his pet hypotheses all but proven.”

Torn between being mad, and worried (he hadn’t thought the kid would show people, much less important people who could check things in labs and the like) Ven squirmed under the younger boy’s blue eyes. There was something… expectant behind the glee.  And Ven’d bite, a little.

“What theory?”

“Oh, it’s horribly complicated, far too much for me to explain to someone so pedes-“

“Let’s pretend I’m not stupid here.”  Ven growled, spearing the younger with a glare that did a lot to take of the vicious edge to the boy’s glee, “and that you aren’t going to whip out long brain breaking words to make me feel stupid, and you explain using /normal/ words.”

“Well, that’s not fun.”  The boy huffed.

“I’m a knight, remember?  All serious and not fun and duty and all that.“

“Knights eat a million you-know-whats for breakfast?”

“Sometimes,”  Ven grinned.  “So what’s what’s his name’s thing about?”

“Master Evens /hypothesis/ involves the fact that there are other worlds beyond our own.  It’s one of his favorite topics, alternate worlds, dimensions, and timelines are something he’s strived to prove for quite a while.”  Uncurling somewhat, the blue haired boy’s gaze went blank, as he considered something beyond Ven, perhaps something beyond Radiant itself.  “He… gets bored sometimes.  With how things should be and are.  So he dabbles in the alternate when mundane or arcane physics and bio-manipulations begin to get boring.”

“Master Even?”  He tried to imagine someone like the blue haired boy as a Master. Somewhat taller, and leaner, with a white coat and something of Master Eraques’ silent, stoic, resolve.  And with a Keyblade, after all the only Master’s he’d ever heard of was Keyblade Masters… But that didn’t make sense because the kid didn’t know what Ven’s keyblade was, unless the boy was just too young to be told but that made even less sense…

But it didn’t quite fit right.  Though he’d never seen this Even, somehow Bio-whatsitscalleds just didn’t fit hand in hand with the martial ways he’d always known.

There might have been something of scorn, certainly a giggle to the odd image, but Ven did manage to swallow it down before it grew into full blown laughter.

But clearly he hadn’t been fast enough.

Reaching for his boots, the blue haired kid tested for wetness with a tentative touch.  Once assured that they were dry enough he shoveled one boot on and was working on the second when Ven realized there what was up.

“What’d I say?”

“What /didn’t/ you say?”  The boy snapped back, fussing with laces. 

“Look, I just… where I’m from…”

“From across town?”  Came the sneered counter.

“From somewhere else, alright!  Not here, and not where the seed is from!”  Calmer, indulging a deep breathe, Ven sat up, shaking off his sprawl.  “I’m from somewhere else, and Masters… they hafta mean something pretty different here.”  Reaching out, snapping up the other boy’s wrist, he ignored the wince his touch summoned, squeezed, but made sure it wasn’t rough or tight.  “Masters are knights, they fight darkness, they... they do things I don’t quite get.  But I’m just... I’m not even supposed to be here, alright?  I’m supposed to be home, training, but...”

“But someone opened a door, and you went for it.”  Came the toneless response, between… between what Ven’d said and a touch the kid had lost all intonation.

“Sorta, well not a door.. But…  That works.”  Ven sighed, tried a smile, and under those skeptical blue eyes (he could see both, their aborted scuffle had set the bangs aside somewhat) he knew he failed.  “Look, I’m sorry.  So, you’re a bio-whatever it’s called apprentice?  Like a knight apprentice, but less knightly?”

“Just an Apprentice.”  All volume had died too, between then and now.  “I… it’s all he could do, to keep them from forcing me back.  To keep that door closed.  Adoption was... well… /is/ illegal because, well /because/.  So we made do.”

“Still… an apprentice, at your age you’re what?  Younger than me, so that’s really young, right?”

To that the boy grinned, obviously taking a quiet delight at Ven’s squirming.  “Really young, indeed.”  Came the perfectly cryptic concession, that wasn’t one, not really, not at all.  Then finding something like mercy, the expression softened the anger and glee (which was anger born) dimmed down.  “You could have just apologized.”

“Yeah, well... that too… and thanks.”

To that the boy shook his hand, taking the hint Ven let go.  Looking up knight considered an apprentice of a different sort, and was met with somber blue eyes looking down, one eyebrow raised just so.

Really the kid didn’t need words.

“For... you know… earlier, the medicine.. and for staying.”

To that, the boy grinned, both boots laced, if not perfect at least they were staying on.  “You’re welcome, but it’s late, I’m later, I need to go.  Tomorrow?”

“Sure.”  Ven sighed.  “Then we can see if I can stuff both feet in my mouth and still talk.”

“I’m sure, you’ll do just fine.”  Came the wry response.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had another rushed submit, when I can I'll swap out slashes for ittalics. I'd do it today but am on a times comp with only a few minutes left.

Of Dog-Earred Books and Keys made out of Stars

The cost of progress

 

The clouds had darkened, thickened and spilled out their tears in an off again on again drizzle.  It was spiteful, set upon the masses when hair or street had the audacity to try to dry.

Suffice to say it wasn’t a nice day outside.

When the wind kicked up, and the puddles were many, it made his trek down the slick roads trick, still despite the dodgy footing and scarcity of people he kept going, more open in his watching of the dark.

His diligence was somewhat rewarded.  The weather and worries and pressures of being penned inside plus the physical gloom could bring forth malevolent forces.  And they had, and taken an aside in whim as well.  Animate cookware, or so he’d found after following the screaming.  A cook and clutch of uniformed and non-uniformed souls (such odd uniforms, all frilled and matching the buildings sign to boot), he’d pushed through the milling throng with a few firm “excuse me’s” and nudges, and once clear of the lot and through the door, he’d drawn his keyblade and…

And stared /aghast/ at mustard and ketchup and pots and pans all emblazoned with Unversed symbol and floating about making a dreadful racket while trying to cook… something.

It was only when one of the pots tried to bring him that he came to himself.  He raised his blade, braced, and pushed the blow aside, still somewhat stupefied as chilly peppers sashayed across the counter into a pot that was boiling itself and…

And, it wasn’t nice, but it was dry and he might have taken long enough fighting the… monsters… to properly dry off.  A fire spell or two he cast pushed him past dry to toasty, but he was really carefully, and only the animated ice cream bars met the attack.

After all, he had to deal with the ice cream bars first, what if little kids ate them?  It was all for the greater good, and evil ice cream bars (sea salt no less) just had to be dealt with.

Besides they made the room colder, and he wasn’t dried off quite yet.

So it was only with a little guilt that he shuffled outside, with a smile and assurances to tell staff and customers that everything was fine.  The monsters were gone, and if they wanted to they could do back in.

And they went, a few remembering manners past shock to utter a few dazzled thank yours.  Graciously he offered a few “your welcomes” sorta hoping but not receiving any offers for a free meal.

Oh well, considering the mess he’d left inside, when he’s knocked over that pot of bubbling evil (how like chili evil’d smelled, extra spicy too) and that incident where the Unversed had overthrown one of the freezers, and the knives in the walls he’d had to duck (hence how they got into the walls) it probably was a good thing that he hadn’t asked.

Considering the ruckus that was building, all shock and anger, the cook’s voice loudest, clearly blaming someone… Ven almost turned about.  Almost went back in.  Because anger like that all the ‘versed in Radiant would hear it and just come right on back.

But he didn’t.  Because on the doorstep. Looking out into rain he saw something that stole all his good intents.  It was gloss as glass, rain slicked, but clearly not translucent, or even intended as a mirror.  It was a wall of some sort of metal and if offered a reflection of sorts.  Enough of one that he could see and for seeing Ven sighed.  A flick of his hand and the Keyblade dissolved in a flash of light, said light was split and sliced by rain and puddles and reflective materials that didn’t reflect quite right.

Still it was enough to see by, surrealistic as the illumination was.

Who’d listen to a kid, knight or not, who’d bother?

It was only his absent hope for the people inside that no Unversed manifested form his all too real despair.

XXX

Two white figures stormed down the halls.  Like any good turn of bad weather there was water to the fore and idle detonations from the rear.  Or rather, the water the smaller, younger, of the two white coated souls dragged in froze and cracked at his elder’s wake.  Leaving a trail of icy detonation to mark their path.

The wise fled before seeing, because the eyes of this storm were quite malevolent and itching for a confrontation.

It’d been the third time.  And if the elder of the two, all tall and scraggly blond and lean had been a superstitious man he’d be preoccupied with charms.  Or luck, or omens, or karma, or other such clap-trap.  As it was his only thoughts was that he’d caught his charge post Braig and Dilan escorting said boy to him and he wasn’t thrilled with the guardsmen’s efforts at retrieval or their excuses.

Actually, his temper was riled enough that he’d trooped the saturated boy from the labs (where  the brilliant minds behind the child’s first two retrievals had assumed he’d be, said assumptions had led to escape one and two) to the child’s quarters, all to take the edge off of his anger.

Because if he’d said anything, had the boy dared, it would have been ugly.

Grimly closing the door behind him, Even refrained from stomping or slamming or other shows of childish stupidity (the boy, was indulging enough for both of them, nearly tripped trice for his mindless stomping) still his temper was more than just a chill front.  His teeth were jammed together, the tick of his jaw told of unhealthy grinding, the sound setting a migraine to migrate behind his eyes.

Still he would not yell, not yet, not now.

“Hot shower, dry off after, and change into something leisure appropriate.  As you’re suspended from labs for a week I expect your coat and boots might have some time to dry out.”

“A week!”  Ienzo squawked, nicely sliding up from traditional whisper to actual audial levels from sheer outrage.

As if he had /any/ right.

“One word,”  Even hissed, leaning close, letting the rage set the green of his eyes to crackling, the comparison to hell fire was inevitable, and Ienzo’s responding shutter had little to do with the cold.  “One syllable, signed /or/ spoke, and it will be three.”  Even promised.

A pause, a long moment where the breathe didn’t steam, finally when it became obvious the boy wasn’t going to fold, Even grit out two words past his locked teeth.

“In. Now!”

The boy’s slamming of the bathroom door could have been seen as defiance.  But honestly, between the painful pulse under his skull and the shake to his knees (the foundations holding him up were quivering, hardly secure, any of it) it seemed easier just to lean against the door and breathe.  The know bas a bulbous prod to the bones of his back, but that pain failed to register against the ache under his breast bone

(Panic and pain, and here and why not here… Now where he was supposed to be.  Pieces were missing and scattered, and all the road had run out, were washed out in the deluge, there were no safe places save here.  But he’d been out there, unsafe, lost and…  Rage, bone rattling, howling rage at that realization.  How dare he, how dare he so flippantly disregard what was meant to keep him safe and..)

Never if be said that the heart was sturdy.  Steady in it’s palpitation, must meet a certain rhythm and cycle, yes, but the stuff of solidary was not the heard.  It was damnable fluid and frenzied and solid and final…

(it had been months, almost a year since even a playful “running away” attempt had been followed through  That had set flame to panic and the result of flame to a compound… this compound was a hideous explosion that had yet to be vented.  He threw stabilizer upon neutralizer, trying to check a reaction that was almost beyond control)

Locking his legs least he collapse completely, Even silently mouthed formula.  Mathematical fixtures that best defined shame.  Phrases that had once filled his elementary days, that once affixed with numbers would define simple things, boundaries of height and width and depth and angles.  Between that and the slowing his breathing, and the sound of water (finally!) turning o Even was able to contain the flurry of chaos that rampaged though his him.

At last his heart slowed its painful beat.

Fury fell under his intellect.  As if the boxing via recollection of parameter had been enough to cut oxygen from the blaze. Still breathing though, that last thought set his lips to a near smile.

Nearly.

He still was angry, but his hands didn’t shake from the force of holding it in.  And the floor wasn’t frosting over, anymore anyway.  Scraping off a skein of frost with the toe of his steel boot Even kicked his indulgence to the side.  Unsatisfied he scraped it to a corner, where the geometric orange and yellow atrocity Braig had foisted off on Ienzo as a “housewarming gift” was set.  Satisfied he couldn’t ruin the thing further he set the ice in its center and left the lot to melt.

With nothing more to kick and really nothing else to do, Even sighed.  A flick of thing and hand and he’d set the lock, and set himself on the edge of the boy’s bed since the child didn’t have a chair to his name.  Fingers pressed against his temples, he strove to sooth the pounding behind his eyes.

Cold never soothed his headache, ice never helped, only set the pulse to burning.

And to that irony, oh the irony of that, he chuckled.

Awhile later, the bathroom door creaked open.  Or rather, it would have had the hinge been compromised with rust or poor placement.   As it was it was a silent little peeking the boy indulged.  The peeking turned to flaw out full opening when the boy realized that no, Even was not going to just go, all silent wishes to the contrary aside.

Unspeaking Even watched the boy’s return.  He was pinked, nearly reddened really.  Making a mental note to speak to this floors plumbers and lower the maximum water temperature Even watched as the boy crept out of the bathroom.  Really, the cloud of seam that followed the boy’s entrance was obscene.  Wrinkling his nose at the heat Even politely adverted his gaze as the boy puttered about his room for a shirt to go with those disgraceful baggy pants he wore now.

In his waiting Even was the dubious presence to a rebellion of sorts.  Granted the fuzzy green tee shirt wasn’t the worse Braig had foisted on the boy, but it was a bastardization of Even’s favorite color so it rankled all the more.  Also it was fuzzy.  Even didn’t consider himself a man of much prejudice, but small, fuzzy, mismatched, things rankled him.

A maroon jacket was thrown on the assemble and the sky blue cap that nearly blended with the boy’s hair was the final straw.

Next the boy would be poking around looking for rain boots and an umbrella, ti’d fit the theme of absurdities.

“Rather warm dress up for Spring, isn’t it?”  The man drawled, stopping the boy from poking about his closet, the bunny slipper in the boy’s hand more than proof enough this stupidity needed to stop.

Right now.

“I’m expecting a cold spell.”

Steeping his fingers, setting sharp chin against the edge of his nails, Even waited.  The boy held remarkably still, and the only sign of discomfort was a sheen of sweet and a lingering flush.  All in all it was very /unenlightening/ as a scientist Even hated it.  Still data came to those who’d wait, if nothing else he could mentally update the time mark for each observation.

Finally after a good fifteen minutes the boy sat.  On the floor.  After all, the bed was clearly out because Even had dared to sit on it-

And taking a deep breathe, because familiarity with that old fury helped him cut it off faster, Even was pleased that he hadn’t cursed, or leapt to his feet, or lost his composure in any overt way.

An improvement, which meant he was wearing the fury down.

Progress, they’d call it.

As it was his hands hurt, his fingers were pressed so hard that the pads were likely bruising.

Still, it was progress.

With utmost care he lowered than broke the conjoined, setting each hand flat on his knees.

Before him, below, Ienzo was affecting far too much interest in his scarf.  Fiddling with the fringe, pointedly not looking at Even.  Indulging an idle thought, the man murmured.

“A cat would cost me /less/ you know.”

The boy froze, faux play forgotten at that seeming bit of whimsy.

“A bit of tuna, some grooming, less legal obligations – thought considering I can’t own a dog, possibly not- but aside aside… or perhaps pursued, do you know the difference between a silent rebellious child and a sulking cat?”

Blue eyes wide, clearly reading the half sincere threat in the analogy and fearing the answer the boy went dead still.  Even would know, he’d done autopsies before.  It was a curious type of terror that nestled in the boy’s regard, beyond fight or flight, it made him rethink all the primal comprehension of fear.  Because in this moment, the boy face  the origin of his terror, his eyes flicking over the lines of Even’s face as if reading… seeking… something.

“A child can talk.”  Even warned, voice sliding into the range the boy normally favored, so soft as to be almost incomprehensible.  “And he’d best get to doing so, very soon.”

Done with it all Even stood, silently proud that there was no ice or damages, or that the temperature had stayed steady to make the boy look a royal’s fool and there was no breathe visible on either of their parts.  All in all... it was progress.

He’d take what he could.

What he couldn’t take was this situation, so he ended it, before he crossed that line beyond cruelty and did something no apology could undue.

Though contained and dissected the fury was there. And he could not guarantee its containment.  All in all it was better to leave.

So he left, as he’d come in, to silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the update wait, life happened.
> 
> This chapter was in part to answer why Ienzo didn’t show up and in part to say something about the sheer amount of “Child does something wrong spanking or grotesque punishment sequence insures” It’s a trend in fanfics that I don’t approve of and while Even doesn’t do what I view as the right thing… he gets as close as his character development can allow at this point.
> 
> A bit of background is due at this point. Ienzo, pre acceptance of Apprenticeship was very much neglected and he regularly disappeared when no one wanted him round. When better authority figures (teachers, other parents) tried to coral him he simply slipped the leash in more creative ways until people stopped noticing him or caring.
> 
> Even’s very much aware of Ienzo’ background and had been subtly finding ways to encourage Ienzo to stay. He stared with bribing and bargaining, but learned though a sequence of trial and error that encouragement and acknowledgement worked best. Up until that point Ienzo had been behaving and was recovering under Even’s attention. Ven’s presence gave him the first conflict in interest in a very long time… and well why he acted will be elaborated later.
> 
> The situation was mare all the more worse when you consider Even’s very big pet peeve in canon. He’s obsessed with being respected, acknowledged, and Ienzo’s flat out defiance was enough to nearly unhinge the man. Also, per Even’s situation, he makes a point of forming no attachments, the blow was made doubly worse because Even had a bit of a revelation that he cares for Ienzo, and it exaggerated his reaction to Ienzo’s semi-accidental defiance. It’s really a miracle that Even didn’t freeze the boy to his room and storm out in a snit.
> 
> Even’s choice of punishment was set to deliberately contrast the usual grounded forever trope, and to advert the gratuitous amount of corpal punishment that litters parenting fics, it’s something he doesn’t approve of per his background.


	4. Chapter 4

Of dog-Earred books and Keys made of the stars

 

Chapter 4

 

 

Sipping chilled coffee, Even studied the rain.  It’s colorless splashes, the shape, and form post impact, helped him deduce little things like wind direction and possible speed.  Simply being by the window told the tale of temperature.  Normally he wouldn’t sit by the window, the light’s glare and sun’s heat was nauseating during the best of weathers.

Only when the weather was at its worse did he dare indulge the past time of looking out.

Speaking of indulgence he took another sip, one that ended  in a spell of chewing courtesy of the ice slivers that were fast forming.  Still he said nothing, thought nothing, for the longest of times.

Finally…

“This isn’t a lark.”  Not a question, not this, the boy daren’t lie about something like this.

Yes sir.

“And this… Ven… he obviously isn’t normal.”

I saw the armor, and the key.. sword…  whatever it was.

In the silence of Ienzo’s peach the rain resumed with vigor.  No breathe the boy uttered.  It put a grim emphasis to the whole, and added potential complications like hypothermia to the lot.

Joyous day.

“That’s circumstantial evidence, not proof of… somewhere else.  Of other worlds.”

The answering scowl assured the boy knew that much at least.

They’d retired to Even’s rooms, some little corner of a tower, about halfway up where the view was bleakest and looked upon wilderness that was just a grey blur curtsy of season’s whim.  They’d come here, to the bookshelf sheathed place to give there “post difference discussion” some privacy.  Or, rather Ienzo had crept up the stairwell with that intent in his mind.

Or so it seemed.

For a boy who thrived off of sulking and subsided on overblown grudged as well as suppers of a more mundane slant the boy’s… handlers… would have found this delightful process.

Even, not caring about progress, simply suspected that the boy’s speed was encouraged by the rather spectacular detrition of the weather.  As that rather over hyped song proclaimed, “the thunder rolled”, it’d rattled Evens walls viciously enough that a multitude of periodicals had tumbled loose after lightning’s passing.

It had been between picking up papers and grousing at the weather that he’d realized the boy’s presence.

And unlike most other he had said nothing.  Offered no invitations, forcing the boy to break the silence and the boundary of a door Even had honestly forgotten to lock.

Ienzo had entered, but had said nothing.  Finally, with shaking hands, he’d spelled out the whole using symbols in steed of words.

Thus Even’s one sided conversation that the by passer, had any dared to enter this abandoned edge of Ansem’s castle, would have used as proof that Even was mad.

“I know you aren’t a liar.”  Even murmured, and no matter the tone, the boy bristled.  He’d been called liar and deluded and worse since this whole fiasco had begun.  No softness of tone could excise the insult because it was always there, ever lingered in both their minds.  “But I need undisputable proof, something beyond circumstance and what you’ve seen.  The senses can be fooled boy, as you well know.”

The bristle faded, blue eyes looked down, combing over grey carpet hairs with a flurry of motion as if he were divining symbols from slant and miniscule shadow.

Finally the boy looked up, hands fisted, the sheen of tears adding to the expression of suffering to the boy’s face.

“Nothing?”  Even murmured.

“The seed, it fell off of him, off his pants during the fight with... those things.”

“Unversed.”  Even hummed, eyes thinned to slits.  “The monsters, whose progenitor he is chasing?”

“He…”  The hands unfisted, were set almost to flight with a few gestures.  Still Even waited, keeping his expression to a tell-nothing blank.  Finally, to that façade the boy broke, though the breaking was only a whisper.  “He never said… it’s only a guess.”

“One that was made by one of the smartest people of Radiant.”  Even concurred, “a guess holds a lot of weight.  More than any behavioral specialists speculations.  Furthermore you know the boy, or are starting to, that gives you an edge of intuition.”

Ienzo went back to studying the carpet, and to that avoidance of acknowledging the praise Even sighed.

And if he were fantasizing about icing a certain pair of humans that had caused the boy to be like this… well that was his thoughts. And he was very careful to keep his intent divorced from his expression.

“Where did you see him last, and where was he to meet you today?”

If the boy noted Even’s monotone he didn’t respond.  Still studying the floor Ienzo rattled off some streets, a few landmarks that had served as meeting points in the past, and a quick analysis of the boy’s habits.  Though how an obsession with sweets was relevant…  Even nodded to indicate he had the lot memorized, then set his iced cup down.

At the click of glass against wooden table the boy looked up, waited, cringing for what experience had taught him to expect.  Yelling perhaps, a tantrum, perhaps a “cold spell”.  Even’s lips quirked at that awful last thought, clearly the boy’s lingo was contagious.

“Enough.  That’s enough.  Your punishment is still in effect even though I’ll be gone for a while.”  And never, ever should a boy’s light up so when he was being punished.  Ever.  But this boy wasn’t normal and Even was more than aware of that.  “Stay out the labs, all the labs in the castle.  Stay in your rooms.”  Considering the grey skies and rumbling rattle that was part thunder part rainfall, Even grimaced.  “I’m going out for a walk outside, since the weather’s _so_ fine.”

Ignoring the giggle at his sarcasm Even glared, and the boy found something of sobriety, or rather he clapped a hand over his mouth and snorted.

“When I get back you’ll be sorting through my books, reorganizing the lot, all nine bookshelves.”

Well that killed the giggles, quite nicely.

Job well done Even brushed past the boy, Even settled up for setting out.  Retrieving his coat, a glossy white thing, it’s pockets rimmed in green, he shuffled a bit back and forth whilst buttoning it up.  A quick glance back and he found the boy pouting on the bed’s edge, his... but Even nipped his lip and simply went about pawing through a pile of dirty laundry besides the bed.  Pants flew one way, socks the other, when he discovered his wallet he slipped it in his present set of pockets.  A quick pat down confirmed he had his potion and ether in his coat pocket, and that would be enough for now. Snapping up an umbrella from its usual place besides the door Even considered saying something.  Some silly salutation that would be expected if he was normal and normally saw people off who he cared enough to say anything too.  Ansem would know some probably a shelf’s worth of niceties.

But Even wasn’t Ansem , and his mind went blank.

A quick look at the boy, now sprawled on the covers almost made Even say something.  Really, it’d do the boy no good to be found here, the rumors were bad enough as they were.  This could make things worse.  But on the other hand the boy looked tired... well more emotionally weary, but still…

“I’ll be back by supper at the latest. I expect my bookshelf in this room to be sorted, by subject and author, chronological exceptions made for the histories.  After you’re done with that get a bite and sleep some, you’ll be working a long while when I get back.”

Figuring that was good enough Even left, Ienzo’s perplexed expression seeing him out.


	5. Lingo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics are used to indicate a different language being used. I was going to use latin, via an online translator but felt it better not to since I don’t know how accurate that info given is, so the italics are a shortcut of sorts as I really don’t want to make up another language up for the sake of one conversation.

Of Dog-eared Books and Keys made of Stars

Chapter 5

_Lingo  
_

 

It was painfully simple really.  A boy so oddly dressed pressed up against a building, a fuel less dance of flames at his feet serving as an actual beacon that the boy was painfully unaware of.  He screamed outsider, and fey so loud it was little wonder the guards hadn’t snapped him up.  Aeleus was going to be so disappointed in the patrolmen.  Professionally so and personally.  Even simply considered it typical.  Training aside, the weather was beastly by a normal person’s standard, and most of the guards were mundane to a painful extent.

They were also lazy, short sighted, incompetents, but considering where he resided it was best not to mention that.

Rain made it worse though.  Shame that, considering it was also the staple to make things grow.  Still if he were concerned enough for the populace’s general intelligence it would be best to pray for a drought, for the people of Radiant needed no further encouragement to vegetate.  Or rather molder, for the frightfully dense ones.

Flicking his umbrella to divert the gutter’s overflow from giving him an algae rich dousing, Even approach the boy.  Aware that those about him were doggedly ignoring the child, heads down, thoughts clouded with their own trivial discomforts.  The importance of their own business ruled the little minded, and thus far all had missed the boy’s strangeness.  That and the child’s shivering, combustions effect proved to be for nothing if that tinged of blue about the lips meant anything. 

“Good afternoon.”

After a goodly chunk of the day being looked through, or over, or about, the boy seemed quite surprised at being addressed.  Understandable.  But here was something about the boy’s eyes that was unsettling; there was a breath of horror to the thus far wordless acknowledgement.

Blue eyes locked on green, a shimmer that was unlikely residue of the heavenly downpour, though the boy’s blond locks were slicked flat and his clothes alternated between see through and darkened depending on their hue.

Such were the joys of saturation.

“Too cold to be chatty I take it?”  Even drawled.  “Well _that’s_ a blessing.”

Still no response, save a continued regard, and a bird-like tilt to the child’s head.

Something of suspicion was beginning to take root, too grim to be a hypothesis, too firm to be fancy.  Still without data he’d not voice the groundless.

“Come along, it’s too cold to linger.” 

No response. 

Moving slowly, dropping the facsimile of a smile that had been his front while walking across the street and the first half of this exchange he remembered tales of key swords that appeared out of nothing and offered his hand with utmost care.  When that wasn’t taken, Even came closer, so that with a shrugs worth of motion and the rotation of a hand he might have clasped the boy’s shoulder.

Still nothing.

“Up.”

To that command the boy did utter something, a string of near musical nonsense that was marred by chattering teeth and fear.  Yes, that definitely was terror to the eyes, and weariness, and those were tears about the eyes speculation about saturation be hung.  His own eyes thinning, Even hummed to himself, then decision made, he sat never mind the puddle which marred his seat.

“ _Talk, old tongues.  Small words, slow, good_.”  Blue eyes going wide the birth of hope amongst the blue was like watching a cerulean sun rise.  There was no chance in hue, but the intensity of the regard, and that smile. It should be illegal, surly a pandemic in the making.  Still Even humored the boy, letting his lips curl on one side   “ _Cold_?”

To that meager offering of communication the boy answered with a barrage of sound while pretty was meaningless.  Still the chatter and wave at the fire seemed to have something of an offer to it.

No, no, are you… damn…”  Raking a hand through his sodden platinum locks, Even found he’d adjusted the umbrella without thought during his descent so it sheltered the child and trapped what heat it could.  The sensation of wet and his skin…  It felt far too much like a touch for comfort.  Shaking off the thought another came to him.  Comforting and cold.  It wasn’t like the boy understood the word or any word really.  So unless Even was one of those lucky ones who’d found a baby minded pseudo linguist who’d pick the worst word of a given lot and parrot it in company Even was off the hook.

“ _Cold_.”  Even stabbed  finger at the boy, making the noise a bit too forceful to be a question.  “I’m not cold… Ah...  _No cold_.”  The man pointed to himself.  “ _Cold?_ ”  The digit he pointed at the boy translated the meaning, even if his inflection did not.

His only response, reasonable understanding aside, was a head shake, which doubled as a means to send water everywhere and to convey a lie.  Shivering and clasping himself even as he refuted truth’s light. Even smirked, the observational evidence was _quite_ against the boy.

What was it with him and picking up the untruthful ones? 

_“Up.”_

This time he was obeyed, and after a second followed suit.  Once steady, using an arm to brace against the slick side of a building to help steady along, he set to ignoring the wetness that was most socially incorrect and the ache in his knees that likely would be bone popping in due time.

The boy wasn’t as prudent.  Nearly slipped into the water and into the tame conflagration for his trouble.  To stop the risk from repeating itself Even waved a hand, while frost wasn’t the softest thing to land upon it was far less damaging than the alternative.

The responding blather of nonsense which he caught one word _spell_ Even was easily able to ignore.  Unzipping his coat and pulling out what he’d stored into the accessories large padded pockets his pant pockets barely held the lot.  Still the pain of jabbing pens and renegade beakers was minimal, and it was simplicity itself to bundle the yapping child into his coat.

He’d had plenty of practice.

A dispute of sorts was brought to the fore when Even was zipping the boy up.  A rush of near musical lingo, then small shivering hands clasped over his own.  Or rather, they tried.

 _No, cold._   A nudge, a whole bodies worth, the uneducated would call it a stagger. _Cold._   Another nudge.  Unable to point it was a reasonable effort for emphasis, and quite the confirmation for a guess unvoiced.

Selfless .

How he _hated_ the type.

 _None, cold…_   He shot an absolute denial, and failed if the confusion pointed his way was anything to go by.  Letting his nails bite into the child’s shoulders he took a step back, ignoring protestations he couldn’t understand, a shove kept the child back and safe.  A moment’s concentration, a flash of unnatural illumination, and the boy staggered back in shock.

Really, the mouth sagging open like that, and the weather for inspiration, the comparison to a fish was just unavoidable.

“Come.”  Even didn’t bother to translate.  A crooked finger and an expression that Ienzo had dubbed “the look” was more than enough to get the boy to tag along.  And, well if Even was trailing snow, and if bits of ice flaked from him as he walked, it was simply the side effects of exuberant mana use.

After all he wasn't one to show off or anything.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forty one chapters was a tentative estimate. I've already had to divide this chapter up for flow reasons and that definitely wasn't in my outline. So if the chapter estimate bounces up and down it's in response to the drive of this tale. Still hoping to have it wrapped up by Christmas for Raberba.
> 
> As an aside (//indulged// as Even'd put it) it is rather disheartening to write and only get silence as a response. While I don't expect a review every chapter it does help to know what I'm getting right, or wrong, or what can be improved upon, or what others may like to see. I've an outline, but it's a flexible one.
> 
> So for courtesy's sake, please review if you're reading, at least once or twice. It'd help and I almost always extend the same courtesy to those who contact me by writing back.
> 
> Thanks for your time,
> 
> Kasan Soulblade

Of Dog Eared Books and Keys made of stars

Chapter 6

Homecoming, part one

He returned sodden, feet coated in a curious melding of forming snow and water drops that his meager stomp on the rug pre entry had failed to dislodge.  Sans coat, some money, and his umbrella nowhere to be found it was only the obvious lack of injury that kept him from being routed to medical by Aeleus and his overenthusiastic guard… what’s-his-name.

The time was well past supper, which he’d figured would be the case before starting, so he’d indulged his appetite before leaving, thus all was well.

Or rather it should have been.

He came home to a voice raised to near desperate begging for information; a voice he’d never known could _nag_ so.  All but shoveled into the nearest chair, a carelessly thrown fire spell (mere starlets of sparks, the effort was genuine, shame the results weren’t quite so much) and despite all his protestations that he couldn’t catch a cold he was almost tipped into the budding fire from the child’s insistence that he “warm up”.

Bracing the chair, resisting another few inches that might have turned the trick, Even snarled.  The boy acted ignorant of his wordless protest, and the chair shuddered under renewed efforts.

Fine, he’d articulate if he must.

“Ienzo, I am fine!”

“But you were gone all day and…”

“And I am fine!  Stop trying to flambé me!”  _That_ stilled he shoves, small mercies there.  Still Even didn’t indulge a sigh.  They weren’t done yet, after all.  “Come around, we’ve words to have.”

The silence at his back was hesitant.  Smart boy.

“Unless there was something you wanted to mention?  Before I start?”

“Like what?”  The boy did a charming sullen, luckily for the man he was facing wrong way about to be drawn into those … what did Dilan call them… ah yes, puppy eyes.

Never understood the allure, though they were a potent weapon in tight quarters, perhaps his immunity was a handover from being a cat person.

“Well, we could repeat your little confession and insert that oh-so-vital element it was lacking.”

“I forgot something?”

Really the effected innocence was a bit much.

 “The truth,”  Even supplied.  “But barring that, you could come along, right now, and face me, unless you want that ban to stretch a month.” 

The responding scramble while not satisfying was at least prompt.  To that Even smiled, taking a reprieve to rise and take to his favored leather chair far away from the flames.   “There was something missing in your little narrative.”  Even continued, folding himself just so.  Ienzo absently taking a seat on the carpet at his feet, had he been in better humor Even might have made a jest about pets and did Ienzo need a treat. 

As it was, he was not in better or even _decent_ humor.

“I believe you omitted the fact that you tried to keep a Flood.”

“I… ah…”  Yes, that was panic, the white around his eyes were quite prominent, and the sagging mouth.

“The whole encounter originated from your efforts to catch one.  Rather glaring omission, isn’t it?”  Thin fingers steepeled, the pointed chin rested upon a roost of nails. Green eyes thinned, and watched as the façade of innocence was felled under a wash of shock.  “Acquiring a xenoform… well there are certain stipulations involved, licenses to keep, acquire, skills needed to trap, and tests meant to make sure that they aren’t crawling with microbes lethal to humans…  So, suffice to say when certain facts behind your little outing were brought to my attention…  I’m sure you can understand why I was a bit peeved.”

To the answering silence Even hummed, then conceded that in this, he might have indulged a lie of his own all without an overt confession.

“Why I _am_ a bit peeved.  More than a bit.  And promptness besides you are officially banned from the labs, save for cleaning duties, for a month.”

The boy’s mouth sagged open, some half formed disagreement falling out as a gargle.

“The punishment is not to be argued with.  You don’t even have ignorance as an excuse.  You knew why it was wrong and you did it anyway.  Consider it stacked upon the week long cleaning efforts of my quarters as well as the other Apprentices.  Save Braig’s.  He’d let you off light for “showing some spine” or some other choice bit of testosterone steeped stupidity.  Dismissed. Unless you’ve something to say?”

Well the boy’s mouth snapped shut, an improvement from before, though the defiant glare leveled at the man from the boy would count as half a mile back communication wise.

When the door slammed after a stomped passage across the floor Even considered yelling that it was two months, but really he hated to go without the boy’s help for that long.  So he swallowed down spite with spit and let it pass.

Any sullenness come breakfast though and he would not hold himself responsible for what came of it.

XXX

“Seriously little dude, why so down?”  Braig purred, lone eye alight with mischief.  But then when wasn’t it.  Leaning over a half-eaten bowl of sweetness that was parading about as pancakes with syrup the man smiled encouragingly at the blue haired boy who was uncoiling from his own bowl of cereal to perk up.

“No talking.”  Came the response, whip crack sharp and frigid to boot.

“Really Even,”  Ansem huffed.

“My charge, my rules, not yours.”  Chewing ensued.  “You’ve fifteen minutes to finish eating and sulking, then you’ve chores to tend.”

“So, it’s trouble, is it?”  Braig laughed.  “What’d the squirt do?”

Even regarded the weather outside, a vile coagulation of heat and water to make a soup of the world beyond the glass.  Yesterday’s cold spell seemed a reprieve, though it had hailed the night before. Ice’s passing had melted quickly, and mud seemed to be the groad’s coat of the day. Shaking his head at the willies of Radiant’s wild Spring, Even didn’t bother to reply to Braig’s jeer about muteness being catchy.  Even had obstinately taken his chair from the long table and was sitting by the window, regarding out rather than his peers.  It had deflected queries thus far, at least until a cheery Braig had started pressing. Chewing over gruel with banana slices mixed in for texture’s sake Even considered his charge’s actions.  Ienzo sat at the apprentice table, being quiet.  He refused to answer the questions set before him, as he had been ordered. Which was good, but it was telling that Braig’s attempt to converse had started to undo the silent front. 

More than likely, Ienzo breaking from his silence in response of the shooter was simply because the boy knew that it would annoy Even.  Such passive aggressiveness could not be traced, thus Even was helpless in assigning punishment to actions that were… well had been aborted.  He’d let the boy off for this, for now.

Unless the Shooter and child started to really talk, then Even would act.

Picking up his cup of coffee, the third for this morning, he ignored Aeleus and Dilan’s raised eyebrows, it was easier to dismiss it verses the long, overblown lecture about caffeine addiction that Ansem had kicked up.

Only the suffering on Ienzo’s face kept Even in his seat, and if breakfast went on for thirty minutes instead of the threatened fifteen… Well Even had lost count of time during this King’s lecture.  The man’s monotone just did that too him and there weren’t any clocks, and Even wasn’t one to wear a watch…

Thus not one single soul had a shred of proof to show otherwise.

To the child’s sulk he smiled, the wince shown that the boy had got the hint.

Braig’s next attempt to talk to Ienzo was met with what it should have been, a wall of unruffled quiet, smart boy, learned fast.  To that Even smiled wider.

Indulging mercy, thirty three and a half minutes too late to really be merciful Even stood, setting cookware on his abandoned seat but commandeering cup number four.  Because, why not.  He had a problem, admitted it, and wasn’t that the first step.  Treatment could be inflicted some other time.  Perhaps when a world-wide invasion of Moogles ate all the coffee beans.

That’d be the day.

“Come along Ienzo, you’ve cleaning down at the potions waste deposal division!”

The child all but popped from his chair and raced from the room.  Even followed at a more sedate pace, closing the door gently on the mess of befuddled fools at his back.

Ansems’ expression, he decided as the portal closed with a snick, was the choicest of the lot.


	7. A spot of history

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rather Even focused. More Ienzo and Ven next chapter, I promise.

Chapater 7

 A spot of History

 

 

“You missed a spot.”

Actually the spot missed had been the smear left by Even’s glove post examination, but the child did have a history of missing the creases and crevices in the potion distilling apparatus, so it was excusable that Even handle each object to make sure that they were pristine. Anything less and the next potion would be ruined at best, and at worst be made toxic and the venomous additive unnoticed.

Still Ienzo heaved a sigh and mutely scrubbed off the smear of half frozen water and set it aside the coiled tube. Besides it lay nine other that had been so inspected and had passed. With a nod to acknowledge the count Even slipped on a pair of soft lambskin gloves and began to pick up each piece. Each was placed in its number, labeled, padded box. Whilst his elder was so enthralled Ienzo trotted to the sink to dry his wrinkled hands, pointedly ignoring both adults in the room.

“Still sulking is he?”

Well, the boy’s hearing was still working if the stiffening of his spine meant much.

Laughing at his own wit the man who’d been tucked in a corner, amusedly allowing Even to order him like he were a little himself, grinned. And be hanged for who saw it. The senior most Potions Engineer and Supervisor had been content to be an additive in the background, watched the dynamic brew into whatever coagulation it must.. and it’d been an interesting show. White coated as Even but with a patch of brown on his head to differentiate, only the most unobservant would fail to note that his locks were curled and each ringlet marred with encroaching grey.

He’d been a previously worried presence that’d been hushed at every complaint uttered. It was only after the fifth such silencing, when what he _saw_ made some sense to the higher levels of his brain rather than the baser emotional levels that he’d stopped making noises. The silent evolution, from bystander to contented spectator, had been met with Even’s approval if the man’s lean grin meant much.

“Still a bit young to be trooping about the lab, isn’t he Ev’?”

To the protraction, from any other mouth Even might have had much to say. To one so familiar, he let that familiarity nominative pass without rancor.

“I was the same age when-.”

“And you hated every second of it.” Alsin noted, giving his star pupil a gaze that warned the next answer would be telling as to whether his welcome was worn or not.  “I do hope the circumstances are different this time about?”

Silence, both watched the boy as he whipped down his station, fetching rags from their designated place, obviously sulking, feet dragging, it was all quite the melodramatic viewing.  It was also now somewhat false, as the boys attention was riveted on his elders though he pretended his sole focus was cleaning.  Even didn’t call the child out on it, and after a moments consideration Alsin didn’t either.  It would be a good way to get the table legs cleaned by something more than the occasional feather duster.

“Yes, and no.  He isn’t… Not by blood.”

“Well obviously not, considering he looks nothing like you.”

“And you’ll note that I stayed. They didn’t.”

The boy was under the table now, small form twisting about to better avoid bleach smelling droplets while he worked on the tables underside. Still some contact was unavoidable, the gloves would spare his hands, and sleeves somewhat, but the shirt (tea green and fluffy, why Even had tolerated the boy wearing the thing made little sense, unless once considered the ruining effects of bleach on that fabric, and the effects of it upon color, realization met Aslin smirked) was definitely a lost cause.

“Boy,” and because… because of everything, Even allowed the comment.  “If you had inherited that level of foolery from _them_ you wouldn’t have had me championing against his Majesty six month ago.  Let’s try again shall we?”

Huffing Even contemplated the bucket, half full and clearly tainted.  He called those facts to Ienzo’s attention.  To the boy’s credit he silently picked up the cleaner and went to the sink, the water’s running was not so silent, and between sound and the distraction of exertion gave Even time enough…

“Without details, as I can’t tell some of the tale.”  Even hissed. “He did something stupid, potentially lethal, and I found out through a secondary source.”

“How long is he in trouble for?”

The water turned off, clearing his throat Even tried to indicate the topics closure.  Aslin let him indicate as much as he wanted and denied him the opportunity with one word.

“Well?”

“A week and a month, intensive labor for the first seven days, privilege denial for thirty... and if he snarks or snaps at me about it he extends he lab cut off for a week per incident.  There was a contract...”

And there was an eavesdropper, if the boy’s reddening face was any indicator.  If there was a huff of offence when the bucket was put down with more force than needed, and a glare for one and all…  Well neither man called attention to it.  Save Even, who simply raised an eyebrow, telegraphing his warning via expression.

Wisely the boy went back to work, not a word indulged.

Humming, eyes glazed as Aslin considered years back, and scrawny unkempt blond who’d insisted to do things his own way, rules and protocol be hanged, the elder smiled.  Here was no warmth to his eyes. 

Because others had encouraged such recklessness, seeing humor in audacity and catering to someone who had been a legitimate prodigy saying “It’s just a stage” and “it’d all work out alright in the end”.  None of those indulgent number had cared, or had bothered to poke in on the once-child but for a moment of two.  Thus scope and caution had been disregarded by the authority as well as the one who sought to learn so ambitiously…

Aslin had been on his way to the lab that day when a sleep deprivation had dovetailed into arrogance born carelessness and Even had reaped the results.  He was haunted by certain scents, could almost see the sprawled unbreathing form, and thanked the Stars that he had mastered healing magic.

Still the remnants of memories twiddled his mind, fooling his senses.  He could almost feel the slick warm sick up that was both red and terrifyingly solid.  Aslin wiped his hands on his coat, but still the sensation remained.

“How’s the throat?”

Cleaning efforts slowed, and Aslin noted that listening in was more than a hobby for this boy.  Even’s boy.  Perhaps it was an obsession.  Grim tidings if that were the case.  It said much, too much, and the elder scientist bit his lip to keep the questions in.

Even would answer, with brutal candor, because that’s what Even did.  But Aslin didn’t want in on this.  Once had been enough heartbreak for him.

“Stable. In the damp it gets hard to breathe, but it’s no better or worse since therapy.  I can talk, obviously, but it does break up if I talk too much, not to inaudibility… but it can strain the ears of others...”  Aware he was babbling Even cleared his throat, “Tea helps. Sometimes.”

“Did you want-“  Because, despite himself, and his thoughts of protecting what little of his heart was left Alsin could not help himself.

“I’m fine…” Heaving a sigh, slipping on a smile more bitter than anything else, Even carried on “-we’re both fine… Thank you though, for everything.”

The obvious, and the unsaid, _I shan’t ask for much, I won’t ask for more_ , hung between them.  Unsaid, but not unheard.  Asling winced, but held true to his quiet, green eyes flicked over the familiar face, resolution sighted Even sighed.

Eyes for the boy, only for the boy, Even carried on.  “The lab, is public domain, for those with the proper papers.”  Even mused, watching the boy, his boy, as the child struggled to dump the bucket.  And one plot was a successes, the discolored specks attested to that.  Idly Aslin wondered and worried that there might have been more.  Must be more.

For Even was not a social man.

“Success?”  Aslin queried, pointing with a head tilt to the not-quite water spots even as the child padded by, bucket in tow.

A hum was Even’s initial response, that and a wry, “I’ll mind the schedules better from here on.”  Clasping Aslin’s arm, indulging the barest of pressures, he stepped back and away.  “You’re a busy man, after all.  I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“Yes, I am.  And… no, you aren’t.”

Silence, save the gargling rush of water being dumped and the slosh of near overflow.

Finally, “I.. tried not to be.  Ienzo!”  The last word was barked, but telling was that the child did not hop. And there was nothing of fear to the gaze when the boy looked up, though there was a whisper of sullenness. “We’re leaving, dry off with the disposable towels; we shan’t ruin the labs own with the smatterings of that bleach solution.”

Dawning horror, or rather chagrin, the boy was looking at the water… or rather what wasn’t wholly water, and noting what his elders had earlier.  The start of discoloration, the beginning of an end... of a shirt.  For that shirt.  Ugly thing, the color of tea in the morning, none sane would morn it's demise.

To the realization alighting the boy's eyes Even’s grin turned feral.

“If you hurry, and switch clothes, I might deign an outing.  Possibly. But only if you hurry.”

The boy left, forsaking drying and leaving a hundred and one other contaminant procedures untended.  Well all the minor ones, about spills, and really just needing a mop to counter the lot.  And, honestly, Aslin had apprentices for such things. Apprentices that weren’t Even.  Not any more, anyway.

And if the man’s regard had been fond for the boy, and perhaps a bit bitter for his fellow man, for Aslin… in that one moment there was something of grief.  But only in the eyes, amongst the edges of green when gaze met regard.

And only for a moment before a steeling of resolve came and nostalgia was left.

“Goodbye Aslin.”

Then Even was walking, bellowing after his charge, and gone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is another piece for a friend who doesn't own a Ao3 account. Because Deviant is such a pain for written works well I thought I'd post it here first. I'll eventually migrate it, but I want to finish it here before hand. if you're interested in Raberba's group here's the url.
> 
> http://khplatoniclove.deviantart.com/


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